


Or I Won't Live To See Another Day (I Swear Its True)

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Ajay hates Master Sandesh, Ajay hates Yetis, Ajay misses Sabal, Ajay thinks of the past, Being Lost, Fluff, Golden Path, Hope, Kyra - Freeform, M/M, Memories, Memories of Sabal, Photographs, Rescue, Survival, Valley of the Yetis, Will to live, Yalung, Yetis are dicks, friends to lovers (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 08:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14712231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: A man spends enough time alone with his thoughts, he tends to lose a lot of things. His sanity, his pride, his hope and possibly even his life. This is a problem Ajay faces after spending far too many nights in the Valley of the Yetis'. Master Sandesh is dead but the snow storms rage on and help seems like it will never come. There's only so long he can last in the Valley and Ajay is reaching his limits as older memories rise up and his thoughts turn to the one person he wishes he could see one last time.





	Or I Won't Live To See Another Day (I Swear Its True)

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the song Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade after playing a bit of Valley of the Yetis and this scene sort of played out in my mind of Ajay spending his last night in the Valley, thinking over everything that has happened leading up to this point. The only thing that truly matters that lingers in his thoughts is Sabal.
> 
> Please leave a comment down below on what you think.

The soft crackle of the wood oven filled the room with warmth, warding off the relentless mountain storm outside the door. The distant sounds of gunshots and screaming faded quickly after the last ambush. Master Sandesh’s men were nothing without the Colonel leading them. The attacks would cease as they’re forced to regroup with what few still reside in the valley. It was the first time in days that Ajay was able to take a moment to himself. The darkness remained, the night was still rather young, the battle fresh in his mind as were the inhuman roars of the beasts that stormed the camp with the coming waves of foes. His thoughts lingered not on this but on fonder memories. Less painful ones.

 

His fingers held the lit screen of his camera in his grasp, scrolling through the photos he had taken in the beginning of his trip to Kyrat. Picturesque mountain ranges and beautiful lakes and rivers glistening in the bright sunshine. The resilient wildlife in their more peaceful moments, sambar roaming through the brush. A honey badger patrolling its territory, a couple tapir strolling down by the lakeside for a drink, the blue flowers floating on the surface with the vibrant colors against the green of the lily pads. There was one he had taken on the back of an elephant, his smile was wide as he helped a few of the younger children up onto the beast’s back in one of the smaller villages, parading through the poppy fields with their deep purple colors as a beautiful backdrop.

 

It all seemed so far away now. The cold and snow was all that awaited him outside that door. The crazy Yalung worshiping cultists and their Awakened beasts that terrorize the landscape. The valley could be so serene, so peaceful and tranquil but it was just another illusion to lure in the unwary. A thud sounded outside, the snow on the roof plopping over the edge where it’s drifted and gathered in the harsh winds. His dark eyes stared at the door, body tense and fingers already reaching for the shotgun leaned against the cabinetry. The dark shadows under his eyes deepened by the faint glow of candle light. The radio continued it’s static hum, a buzzing sound that had been maddening the first few days now was nothing more then white noise in the back of his mind.

 

He released a shaky sigh as he returned his gaze to the camera screen, scrolling through the rest of the photos. Of Amita teaching Bhadra how to shoot a bow in the small range outside of Banapur. A few shots of the thangka’s at Kanan’s farm and the colorful flags lining the paths up into the mountains, guiding travelers and sherpa’s when the snow obscured the path. It wasn’t long until a familiar set of emerald eyes greeted him on the screen. A smile that was so genuine and pure, on fair and calm features, broken up by subtle scarring from past battles but nothing could deter the charm. “Sabal.” Ajay murmured, his fingers pressing gently against the screen as he yearned for another night by the elder man’s side. Just another warm embrace as they curled up in the bed at the Ghale Homestead. What he wouldn’t give for another late night talk that dragged until the early rays of dawn smiled upon them. Another session at the shrine as Ajay attempted to meditate but would inevitably be distracted by his own thoughts or the chatter of wildlife outside.

 

He felt the sting in his eyes before his vision started to blur twisting up the colors on the bright screen into unrecognizable silhouettes. He stifled another shaky breath, letting it out slowly as he raised his sleeve to wipe away the dampness. He sniffled quietly, trying to shake away the feelings, knowing well this wasn’t the time or place to get discouraged. Ajay couldn’t help the hopelessness he was feeling sinking deep into his chest. It was a heavy weight over his heart, painful and constricting. A few more droplets fell freely this time as he flipped through a few more photos. Pictures of the two of them together, some taken as selfies and some they asked others to take for them. Most of them were Ajay’s handy work from a distance as the Golden Path leader busied himself among the people.

 

There was one of him kneeling before the makeshift shrine in Banapur, an elderly woman and her granddaughter coming to rest on either side of him as they lost themselves in prayer. Ajay’s lips quirked up at the contentment on Sabal’s face. It was hard to believe that this was taken during a time of war when the man looked so at peace, his palms pressed together as his body moved so easily, nothing more than muscle memory. It was the same familiarity at which Ajay works with a gun, proving he has done this a million times and it never got old. The early morning sun shining down upon him like a beacon sent by Kyra herself. If there was such a thing as a living goddess, Ajay liked to think Sabal could have been a living god somewhere along the line. A lowly humble god thrown into a country rife with war yet a heart of gold continues to blossom in all of his actions. Sabal often took to praising him for his thoughtfulness and generosity but Ajay couldn’t help but admire the man that such praise originated from. Sabal was an inspiration to Ajay and in some ways, his savior.

 

Sabal gave him purpose and a place to belong when everything seemed so unstable and falling apart. He kept Ajay grounded and gave him hope when the whole world seemed at a loss. When things got rough, the elder man was always there with a gentle touch and soft praise, supporting him and reminding him that he could do anything he put his mind to but to keep caution in all he does. On more then one occasion, Ajay had nearly given the wise old elephant a heart attack with his actions but Sabal was his driving force. He gave Ajay hope and rekindled a love in his heart that he had given up on so long ago.

 

By the end of the photos, Ajay’s hands were shaking as he turned off the camera and set it aside. He rested his head in his palms, giving his eyes another brisk wipe of his sleeves before letting out a shuddering sigh. That feeling of hope that he carried with him throughout his duties in Kyrat was severely lacking in this moment. At every corner and every turn, he was shot back down. The people he tried to save inevitably died one way or another. Every night was a battle to keep the relay station in one piece against the crazy Yalung Worshipers and the radio was an endless stream of static and silence, broken only by the mad rantings of those lunatics in the valley. Every attempt at reaching the Golden Path had proven futile and even when he finally got a signal going, the blizzard moved in and knocked out communications.

 

Ajay was cold, hungry and so fucking lonely. He’s been running on no sleep for days just trying to stay alive. He wasn’t even sure he could count on the Golden Path to find him all the way out here. It wasn’t like Durgesh where they could just get lucky that he managed to get away from the prison. He doubted Kyra was going to give him a second chance and guide Sabal back to him. The goddess seemed to be all out of blessings and patience with him lately. Besides, he was in Yalung’s territory now. The demon held no mercy in this forsaken fucking valley.

 

He was all out of options, even with those crazy bastards stalled and forced into retreat, he had no way out of here. He doubted he’d survive a trip through the mountains back to Kyrat just with the weather alone and his lack of equipment, that didn’t include all the vicious animals and those monsters out their stalking the wilderness. He barely made it back to the Relay Station in one piece last time and he could hardly fend them off when he was here. His eyes wandered towards the 1911 sitting beside him on the cot, the worn out metal had deep scratches and gouges throughout. It had seen quite a bit before he got a hold of it. In fact, he found it on the body of one of Yuma’s dead soldiers. Beside the body was a note stating his last words. His death was easy to figure out. The gun still in hand and a hole in the skull. He had many regrets but killing himself wasn’t one of them. Even he realized the hopelessness that plagued all who entered the valley.

 

He slowly reached out, picking up the colder metal, the weight rested comfortably in his hand. His fingers curling around the grip, index finger resting along the side, safely away from the trigger as he inspected the weapon. It was enough to get the job done, a fine side arm like any other. Perfect for putting down rabid dholes or the occasional offending cultist. Against those other beasts that lurked in the snow covered hills and stalked the thick foliage of the trees, it was useless. He realized that all too late his first run in with one. It chased him up a cliff side where he spent three and a half hours hanging from a rope. His arms had gone numb and he couldn’t feel half his body from the cold. He couldn’t get down for the life of him until the beast finally lost interest and rekindled it when a snowmobile cruised down a back trail between the rocky outcroppings. It was the only thing that saved him and it took far too long to get back to the station. Even longer to warm himself enough to be functional.

 

He didn’t leave the station the rest of the day and surrounded the building in enough explosives to blow up a Royal Army fortress. Necessity was the only reason he ventured back out into that hellscape again, keeping to enclosed motorized vehicles for a quick get away and avoiding going on foot too far. He was even jumpier than usual, skittish at the slightest shadow or the rustling of the wind through the pines. His nerves were shot, he was beyond exhausted, running on autopilot to the point he was lucky he could even work the bolt action of his rifle when he put a bullet between Master Sandesh’s eyes. The fucker kept ranting like he was all high and mighty, still a player in this fucking game. Ajay ended it quickly while the two dozen guards he surrounded himself with scattered in a frenzy without their figure head to bark commands at them. They were easy enough to pick off.

 

At this point, he didn’t even think the Relic was worth bothering. With Master Sandesh dead, anyone who still knew of its location was also gone, narrowed down to just Ajay. It had driven all those men insane. Whatever the fuck it was, it turned Yuma’s men into raving lunatics and mutated them like they were diseased. Like it was eating away at their flesh and their brains, making them see things. Just like the spores in the caves and the strange plant life growing in the hot springs that the men had been collecting and consuming. It was rotten to the core, like a blight or a drug, they were addicted. As far as he was concerned, Kyrat had enough problems like that. The last thing it needed was one more being brought back.

 

That’s assuming he will even make it back.

 

He sniffled again, measuring the feel of the gun in his hand as he turned the barrel towards himself. He couldn’t imagine facing another night in this hell hole. He just couldn’t do it. It needed to end, one way or another. His thumb cocked back the hammer, the heavy click was deafening in the quiet of the relay station. He closed his eyes and took another shaky breath. “I’m sorry Sabal, but I won’t be coming home this time.” He murmured, feeling the cold of the metal against his temple. His hands stopped shaking, they always did when it was time to get to work. A sudden calm fell over him, a serenity and peace that resembled something so far off, like a distant memory. A warm hand on his shoulder and a voice speaking softly in his ear. ‘ _It’s alright, brother. You’ve done all you could. Nobody can fault you for that.’_

 

It was so close, he could almost smell the gentle stirring of smoke and incense. Of poppies on the wind and the warmth of skin against skin. The brushing of lips against the shell of his ear and fingers through his hair, a soft touch, barely noticeable. A shiver raced down his spine as he opened his eyes, feeling the sting of tears rushing up to greet him as the room remained the same old dark and empty space. He released the hammer on the gun, setting it down in his lap as the tears fell. His throat constricted with the rising sob threatening to break. It took everything he had to force it back down. The gun was set aside as he covered his face with his hands, shoulders trembling with the heavy gasps of air he drew in. “I’m sorry, Sabal.” His voice was broken, lessened to barely a rasp. It was nearly lost in the howling of the wind outside and his own overwhelming emotions as he worked through them.

  


By the time the storm ended, the sun was just breaking over the mountains outside. The bharal’s bleated just beyond the door as they moved about to graze on the shoots of greenery that rose up out of the snow. Ajay was sprawled out on the cot, finally giving in to his exhaustion in the middle of the night. His gun resting on the floor in easy reach should he need it but nowhere near his hand like before. The camera sat beside his head, gloved fingers resting next to it, fallen away in the middle of scrolling through the photos. The warmth of the room faded as the wood burner used up the last of its fuel, only the remnants of heat remained, lending a sobering chill to the air. The static hum of the radio soon crackled to life with a heavily accented voice. “Ajay Ghale.” It caused Ajay to stir in his sleep, a groan leaving his lips as his sore limbs pushed themselves up to look around. “Are you there Ajay? Come in. Ajay Ghale, do you read me? This is rescue party two, do you read?”

 

Before the voice could finish their line, Ajay was on his feet, stumbling the short distance to the radio in a blur. His mind still trying to catch up, cementing itself in the waking world and shrugging off the tolerable dreams he experienced during his brief rest. He could only hope this wasn’t a dream. Otherwise it would be a rather cruel one. His fingers fumbled with the mic, to respond back before anything else could go wrong with communications. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” He huffed out, feeling his pulse kick up a few beats with hope but still shocked to hear a familiar voice all the way out here.

 

“Oh, thank Kyra we found you.” He had never been so happy in his life to hear the goddess’s name. It was a phrase he had taken for granted until now. It was all the proof he needed that these were allies and not another trick from the cultists. The following phrase nearly had him weeping with joy. “The Golden Path have been searching for you for days.” He dropped to his knees right there in front of the radio, his hands clasped together as he thanked the aforementioned goddess. Help was coming. He was finally going to be rescued and go home.


End file.
